


You Don't Even Know Me (I Love You)

by InterstellarBlue (nagi_schwarz)



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-24 10:10:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20905934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/InterstellarBlue
Summary: Myungjun is in love with the beautiful dance major who lives in the room below his.Dongmin holds his liquor way too well.Jinwoo has thebestworst ideas for confession.





	You Don't Even Know Me (I Love You)

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't realize till nearly the end of the story that Sanha was just...not there. Rocky is barely there. Sorry!

“Again?” Jinwoo asked, taking off his shoes just inside the doorway of their dorm room. 

Myungjun didn’t stop dancing, though he did stop singing. “What? I love this song.”

“He means he’s in love with the dance major who lives in the room below us but is too afraid to talk to him,” Dongmin said without looking up from his textbook.

“Traitor.” Myungjun scooped up a pair of balled up socks and threw it at him. 

He dodged. 

Dongmin was a terrible dancer, but he’d been captain of both the basketball team and soccer team in middle school and high school. He looked sleek and slender and delicate, but he was a tough bastard. That was why Myungjun had never tried to kill him. It would take too much effort. Also, despite his bluntness and seemingly aloof attitude, he was a good friend and a good roommate. 

“Remember how annoyed you were the first week because they played their music too loud so they could dance to it?” Jinwoo set down his backpack and toed on his slippers. 

That was how Myungjun had first seen him, the tall, beautiful one whose name he still didn’t know, who’d apologized and explained he was a dance major and he’d keep it down. 

“You’re probably annoying them just as much as they annoyed you,” Jinwoo said. He plopped down on his bunk bed and stretched happily. He worked part time at a music hagwon teaching younger kids how to play the drums. 

“He turned it down after I told him,” Dongmin said. He added, “It’s not a bad song.”

Jinwoo snorted. “Because you have old man taste in music. This song is older than our parents.” Then he eyed Dongmin. “Is this song about being in love with a dancer?”

The song was in English. Of the three of them, Dongmin was the best at English. Myungjun knew he was the worst, but he’d sung this song every night for weeks after Dongmin introduced him to it, and he had his English pronunciation down really well. As a singing minor being able to sing in English well, even if he couldn’t speak it well, was a skill worth honing. 

Dongmin translated the lyrics for Jinwoo, still without looking up from his textbook. 

_ Hey boy whatcha doing down there  _

_ Dancing alone every night while I live right above you  _

“He has two roommates,” Jinwoo said. 

Myugjun kept humming the melody. Dongmin kept on translating. 

_ I can hear your music playing  _

_ I can feel your body swaying  _

_ One floor below me  _

_ You don’t even know me _

_ I love you _

“You don’t love him, you just think he’s hot. And you stalk him. You timed it so you leave the dorms at the same time as him every morning and see him in the dorm cafeteria four times a week but you don’t even know his name.” Jinwoo looked unfairly amused. 

Myungjun sang the chorus while Dongmin translated along. 

_ Oh my darlin’  _

_ Knock three times on the ceiling if you want me _

_ Twice on the pipe if the answer is no _

_ Oh my sweetness - _

Dongmin tapped his pen on his book absently to the  _ knock knock knock  _ sound effect in the song. 

_ Means you’ll meet me in the hallway.  _

Dongmin also joined in on the two metallic taps. 

_ Twice on the pipe means you ain’t gonna show. _

Jinwoo started at them in disbelief. “I can’t believe how pathetic you are. And you,” he said to Dongmin, “this is your fault for introducing him to your old man music.”

“This music,” Dongmin said loftily, “is classic.”

Jinwoo eyed Myungjun. “You think Beautiful Dancer Boy is going to somehow hear this song and knock on the ceiling so you can kiss in the hallway like something out of a drama?”

Myungjun shook his head. “Of course not. Just - let me dream and be in love, all right?” And he kept on singing. 

Jinwoo shook his head and started into his after-work wrist and arm stretches. But when the next chorus came along, he did the knocking and tapping too. 

*

Myungjun and his roommates were like the Three Bears of timeliness. Jinwoo was notoriously late for everything because he was slow to fall asleep and slow to wake up and slow to get ready, and for a boy who could run like the wind and rap like no one’s business, he lived life like honey on a cold day. In comparison, Dongmin was early for everything, because he never wanted to be late, and his solution for never being late was to be at least ten minutes early for every class and appointment. Myungjun had mastered the art of being perfectly on time.

It was necessary if he wanted to see Beautiful Dancer Boy during the day without seeming like a total stalker. If Myungjun was late, he’d have to hurry, and should Beautiful Dancer Boy look his way he would be mussed and winded and sweaty and generally unattractive. If Myungjun was too early, he would look like a desperate stalker who was obviously hanging around waiting for just a glimpse of the most beautiful boy ever. Myungjun really wasn’t a stalker. He didn’t have bunches of stolen photos on his phone of Beautiful Dancer Boy (but if he had all kinds of sketches of him in the margins of his notebooks, he was an artist and he doodled when he got bored, all right?). Beautiful Dancer Boy lit up Myungjun’s life. People needed light to survive, and a little glimpse here or there kept Myungjun going through the day.

When Myungjun set off from his dorm room at precisely 7:12 in the morning, Dongmin had been gone for ten minutes and Jinwoo was just barely rolling out of bed. Myungjun trotted down the stairs two at a time - right behind Beautiful Dancer Boy, who was wearing a white t-shirt and ripped blue jeans that showed off his fantastic thighs. They made it to the cafeteria at the same time, though Myungjun was careful to let a couple of people get into the line ahead of him. It was 7:19 when Myungjun plopped down in a seat at a table in the corner where he could see Beautiful Dancer Boy holding the door open for the ahjumma who cleaned the cafeteria. Beautiful Dancer Boy always ate at one of the outdoor tables on nice days, or by the window during inclement weather. With the sunlight streaming down on him like a spotlight, he looked almost angelic.

At 7:41, Myungjun returned his tray to the kitchen line, and then he headed for his first class. For precisely nine minutes of his walk across campus, he was three meters back and half a meter to the left of Beautiful Dancer Boy, and then Beautiful Dancer Boy headed toward the Fine Arts building and Myungjun headed toward the Technical Arts building.

On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, at 11:39 in the morning, Myungjun arrived at the dorm cafeteria to get his lunch - and see Beautiful Dancer Boy, who sat beside the window and watched videos on his phone while he ate.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, starting at 1:26 in the afternoon, after Myungjun’s drawing class ended, he got four minutes of uninterrupted watching while Beautiful Dancer Boy was in the dance studio across the hall from the drawing studio. The place was perfectly soundproofed, so Myungjun never knew what songs he was dancing to, but he could see the clean, flowing lines of his body. He was pure poetry.

That soundproofing was also the reason Myungjun still didn’t know the boy’s name, but that was okay, because as long as Myungjun got his little doses of light during the day, everything was all right.

“Just so you know,” Jinwoo said one night while the three of them were eating convenience store ramyeun and watching the newest Marvel superhero movie, “you are a total stalker.”

“What he’s doing wouldn’t legally be considered even the lowest form of stalking,” Dongmin said, wielding his chopsticks very precisely.

Myungjun let him have an extra piece of the homemade kimchi his older sister had sent.

Jinwoo scowled.

“I mean, it is kind of sad, but it’s not as creepy as it could be,” Dongmin continued.

Myungjun handed Jinwoo the next piece of kimchi.

Jinwoo smiled.

“He makes me happy, all right? I think I’m allowed to pursue happiness,” Myungjun said.

“You are,” Dongmin agreed.

Myungjun gave him another piece of kimchi.

“Wouldn’t talking to him make you happier?” Jinwoo asked.

The mere thought of striking up conversation with Beautiful Dancer Boy was terrifying.

“I’m fine with how things are,” Myungjun said firmly.

Jinwoo glanced at him. “Should you be?”

Myungjun ate the last piece of kimchi.

*

It was a generally acknowledged truth, that Dongmin was beautiful. Myungjun wasn’t in love with him or even crushing on him, but he wasn’t blind. People looked at Dongmin and assumed he was delicate and graceful, given his pale skin and perfect features and soft hair. No one ever looked at him and thought he had the alcohol tolerance of a sailor three times his size. Especially since he’d been such a model student and child and never drank underage. Turning twenty had turned Dongmin into a soju monster. 

All of them had work Saturday, but Friday night was the only night where they could really get drunk, so after Dongmin’s last class, they ordered fried chicken, side dishes, and drinking snacks, and got a whole bunch of bottles of soju and cans of beer. 

Together they vented about their week: Dongmin’s ridiculous homework load as a law student, Jinwoo’s obnoxious hagwon students, Myungjun’s miserable time doing portraits and caricatures on a chilly street in a touristy area of Seoul in the evenings. 

The drunker they got, the more incoherent their conversation got. Talk shifted to classmates and neighbors, friends and family. 

They played video games. 

They turned on music and sang (and Jinwoo did the rap parts). 

Once they’d worn themselves out, they sprawled on the couch in a puppy pile and sighed. 

“We should invite more people to drink with us,” Myungjun said. 

Dongmin said, “I’m a law student. We don’t have friends.”

Jinwoo nudged Myungjun. “You should invite Beautiful Dancer Boy.” He was slurring heavily. Myungjun wasn’t sure how many shots Jinwoo had had, but it wasn’t even half as many as Dongmin. 

Myungjun sighed. “I don’t even know his name. I don’t think I could talk to him. Not without sounding stupid.”

Dongmin hummed thoughtfully. “You could write him a note. That way you could plan what to say and you wouldn’t have to be in front of him while he read it. Give him time to think about his response.”

Myungjun peered at him. Jinwoo’s face got all red when he was drunk. Dongmin just blushed prettily. 

Myungjun considered Dongmin’s suggestion. “You’re smart. That’s why you’re a law student.” 

Dongmin nodded. “I am smart. I study really hard.”

Myungjun wriggled out of the tangle of limbs and found a notebook and a pen. He flipped to a clean page and started to write. 

He narrated aloud as he went. “Dear Beautiful Dancer Boy, I’m too nervous to speak to you, but I want you to know that I’m a little bit in love with you. I’m in love with the way you smile, the way you pout, the way you sigh and slump over your textbooks when you’re tired. I’m in love with the way you hold your chopsticks and the way you hold the door open for the grandma who cleans the cafeteria. I’m in love with the way you look like a cat most of the time but an adorable puppy when you smile. I’m in love with the way you dance and the way you sit and the way you walk. I hope you eat well and be happy. Love, your upstairs neighbor.”

“You sound like a total stalker,” Dongmin said. “But your grammar is good.” He was still slumped on Jinwoo’s shoulder.

“I’m not a stalker. I’m observant. I’m an artist.” Myungjun was actually an architecture major, but he was very good at drawing and had a good spot in a tourist section of the city to prove it. For his signature he drew a cartoon sun that was wearing sunglasses and grinning, because his nickname was Sunshine. Then he folded the letter and went to find his lighter and wax seal set. 

“Don’t set off the fire alarm,” Dongmin said. 

“Wait,” Jinwoo said, waving a hand vaguely. “You have to add a PS. About the knocking thing.”

Myugjun, poking through his art supplies, glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

Jinwoo warbled, in broken English,  _ Knock three times on the ceiling if you want me… _

Dongmin nodded sagely. “Hyung is right. How will you know if he likes you back?”

Myungjun was better at writing in English than he was at speaking it. He picked his pen back up and added the postscript plus the song lyrics from the chorus in very careful English. Once that was done, he re-folded the letter and found his wax seal set.

It was a very solemn, red-cheeked Dongmin who fanned Myungjun’s notebook in front of the smoke detector as a preventative measure.

Myungjun made sure his little sunflower seal was positioned just so before he pressed it into the golden wax, and then he drew the seal away with a flourish. “There,” he said, presenting the sealed letter to Jinwoo. “It’s perfect.” He started for the door. “Now we have to deliver it. We can just...push it under the door, right?”

Jinwoo pushed himself to his feet, nodding. “Yes. But - we have to be quiet, right? So he has time to read it to himself and think about it. Without you there.”

Dongmin nodded his agreement. 

The three of them had to keep each other steady as they tip-toed down the hall, to the stairs, and down to the floor below. They had to count carefully so they found the right room. Dongmin and Jinwoo clustered close to Myungjun, hiding him from view as he knelt down and peered at the bottom of the door.

Which met the carpeted floor without even the slightest hint of light.

Myungjun shot back to his feet, stumbled, caught Jinwoo’s shoulder for support. “There’s no room. It won’t fit under the door. What do we do?”

Jinwoo started to slur an answer, but then Dongmin was bowing and saying  _ good evening, sunbae! _ to an older boy, and the three of them stumbled back to their room, breathless and giggling.

Myungjun looked down at the letter in his hand, forlorn. “How am I going to give it to him now?”

Dongmin shrugged and crawled up onto his bunk, which was above the couch.

“Obviously,” Jinwoo said, “you have to tie it to a string and lower it to his window. Just like in the song.”

Jinwoo was slurring very heavily and looked about ready to pass out. Dongmin was smarter and also much more sober. Myungjun looked at him.

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s the best we have right now. We’re all too drunk to knock on their door. You’d make a fool of yourself and we’d embarrass you.” Dongmin nodded solemnly. “The string is the best option.”

Myungjun had some string his sister had given him. He pawed through his art supplies some more. Dongmin, with his pretty long-fingered pianist hands, had to help him get the string securely around the letter so the letter wouldn’t fall out midair. Jinwoo and Dongmin both leaned out the window beside him and helped him lower the letter to the appropriate height just outside Beautiful Dancer Boy’s window. Jinwoo, who was a hobby fisherman, was the best with knots, so he secured the other end of the string to their window so the letter would hang safely.

“Love you, Dancer Boy!” Myungjun called out.

Then he slammed the window shut, and the three of them collapsed onto the couch in another puppy pile, giggling.

Jinwoo was the first to fall asleep, the lightweight. It was a kind, responsible Dongmin who tucked a blanket around him and Myungjun before he took himself to bed.

Myungjun fell asleep with a smile on his face. Tomorrow, he’d hear from Beautiful Dancer Boy. Tomorrow might be his day one with his one true love.

*

Myungjun woke with a roaring headache. He was hungover. He blinked blearily at his watch. He didn’t have work for three more hours. He could sleep in a bit longer, then shower and dress and have food before he headed downtown with his art supplies.

Jinwoo was curled up beside him, drooling on the arm of the couch.

Dongmin was snoring softly from the bunk above.

Myungjun couldn’t quite remember what had happened the night before, but he knew they’d drunk a lot, more than usual. The number of empty soju bottles on the floor was staggering. He did his best to be stealthy as he cleaned up the worst of it, he drank as much water as he could handle in one go, and then he crawled into his own bed, set an alarm on his phone, pulled the blankets up over his head, and went back to sleep.

An hour later, Myungjun rocketed into wakefulness not at the sound of the alarm but at the memory of the night before. He clawed his way out of his blankets and stumbled across the room to the window. He flung the window open and squinted down and saw a string dangling limply next to the window one floor below. He craned his neck and searched the ground below for the fallen letter but there was no sign of it.

Horrified, he dragged the string back upward, determined to throw it away before Dongmin or Jinwoo saw it and remembered what happened and teased him mercilessly for the rest of his life. He saw that the string had either been cut or the knot Jinwoo had tied very carefully had been undone. That meant someone somewhere had the letter.

Myungjun was so embarrassed. Yes, the dance major downstairs was adorable, and Myungjun wanted to ask for his phone number or a date or something, but a drunken declaration via letter was insane. He wanted to go downstairs and knock on the door and ask for the letter back. Maybe he could pretend Jinwoo or Dongmin had written it and they were too embarrassed to ask for it back?

No. That would be even more embarrassing.

Myungjun, his face hot, closed the window tightly. Then he checked his watch, saw the time, and realized he had to go. He showered fast and cold to wake himself up, then ran down to the student cafeteria to wolf down some food before heading downtown to the art supply store where he worked weekends.

While Myungjun was waiting in line, clutching his tray and hoping no one heard his stomach growling, he ran through a list of things he knew he’d have to do at the shop that day. It was inventory time again, and the manager had asked him to change up the display in the front window. He reminded himself to stop by a convenience store to pick up some hangover medicine. The shower had beaten back the worst of his headache, as had chugging more water, and food would help even more, but some medicine was definitely in order.

Myungjun cursed his short stature and craned his neck to try to see what was on offering that day. The student cafeteria had surprisingly good food and lots of variety. After two years of army food, which wasn’t the greatest, Myungjun was enjoying the cafeteria food. Jinwoo and Dongmin hadn’t done their service yet, but Myungjun’s father had advised him to do it first thing out of high school, and that way he wouldn’t have to interrupt his life down the road. As a result, neither Jinwoo nor Dongmin appreciated how good the cafeteria food was.

Myungjun’s stomach rumbled, and he clutched his tray to his chest, heat rising in his cheeks. 

“I know, right?” the boy in front of him said. “I can smell the jjajangmyeon from here, but I’m afraid it’ll all be gone before I get to it. I love jjajangmyeon.”

“Me too,” Myungjun said fervently. He sniffed the air. “Really? You can smell it from here? Or are you just so tall you can see it?” The other boy was a couple of inches taller than him, but that was worth a lot in a long line like this.

The other boy turned around. “I’m not that tall,” he said, and smiled down at Myungjun.

Who froze.

It was him. Beautiful Dancer Boy. 

Myungjun had actually spoken to him.

Beautiful Dancer Boy’s smile widened. “I guess compared to you I am kind of tall, hm?”

Myungjun blinked, dazed. “Ah - yes,” he finally managed.

His first words to the most beautiful boy in the world, and they were totally lame. Myungjun’s mind raced. Should he run away? He probably had enough money to get food in addition to hangover meds at the convenience store. Only Beautiful Dancer Boy was smiling at him, perfectly friendly.

Friendly.

Maybe he hadn’t seen the letter? 

Or - wait. He didn’t know Myungjun’s name. This was the first time they’d spoken. As long as Myungjun avoided telling the other boy his name, everything would be fine, right?

“I’ve seen you around before,” Beautiful Dancer Boy continued. “We live in the same dorm building, right?”

“Ah - yes,” Myungjun said cautiously. His heart was pounding. He had to say something more, but his brain was no longer connected to his mouth.

Beautiful Dancer Boy cleared his throat. “Say, do you happen to know someone who -”

“Hey, move along,” someone shouted from behind Myungjun.

Beautiful Dancer Boy turned and saw that the line had advanced and they were holding it up. “Now’s my chance to get some jjajangmyeon,” he said and grinned.

Myungjun’s head swam. “Ah - yes.”

Beautiful Dancer Boy’s grin faltered. “Eat well, I guess.” He headed forward. 

He even looked beautiful walking away.

Then someone prodded Myungjun in the spine, and he scurried forward. He’d eat as fast as he could and go. He had work to do and beautiful boys to avoid so he didn’t embarrass himself even more.

*

Myungjun spent most of his shift working hard, counting old inventory, helping the manager fill out the next month’s order forms, and then trying to come up with a decent window display to advertise a special on drawing supplies. In the end he spread out a pretty pale drop cloth and set up an easel with a sketchpad on it. He put out a little side table and arranged pencils, charcoal, erasers, and sharpeners on them. Once that was done, he and the manager stood on the sidewalk and considered.

“It looks good, but - something’s missing,” Manager said.

Myungjun nodded. “Yeah, but what?”

Manager hummed thoughtfully for a moment, then lit up. “We need a sketch on the sketchpad. It doesn’t even have to be a finished one. You can sketch something fast, can’t you? I’ve seen you drawing on the street.”

“Well, I mostly do portraits. Want me to do a portrait of you?”

Manager laughed. “My ugly face would scare people away. Just - draw someone from memory.”

Drawing a portrait from memory was a lot harder than people realized.

There was one person Myungjun could draw from memory, though. So he took the sketchpad off the easel, sharpened some charcoal, and set to sketching Beautiful Dancer Boy. It was a bit weird and stalkerish, he knew, to put some stranger’s picture up in a shop window without his permission, but it wasn’t like Myungjun had to do a complete sketch, just enough to give customers an idea of what was possible with the tools available.

Myungjun decided to draw in only half of his face, leaving the guidelines on the other half, a sort of before-and-after look. He took his time drawing the details of Beautiful Dancer Boy’s eyes, the curve of his lips as he smiled. Today Myungjun had been able to really see him up close. Usually he saw Beautiful Dancer Boy from a distance while he was walking across campus or eating in the cafeteria or laughing with his friends. Once he’d seen him dancing in the quad with some other dance majors while someone blasted music on a portable speaker. The way he moved was breathtaking. Myungjun channeled as much of that as he could into the half-portrait.

When it was finished, he washed the charcoal off his hands and put the sketchpad back on the easel.

“He’s very handsome.” Manager nodded approvingly. “Who is he?”

“Just - someone who lives in my dorm building.”

Manager clapped him on the shoulder. “I knew you could do it. Now come on - those boxes won’t unpack themselves.”

By the end of his shift, Myungjun was exhausted and hungry. He’d barely managed to wolf down a cup of instant ramyeun from the convenience store around the corner, and the cafeteria had stopped serving dinner long before his shift ended. He grabbed another meal from the convenience store and then headed for the dorms. He wanted to just collapse in bed and sleep through till Monday, only he had to study all day Sunday, because exams were coming up.

Only when he got back to the dorms, the building was alight and teeming with life. Doors and windows were open. Music and laughter spilled into the night air. People spilled in and out of the building. There were little red plastic cups everywhere, and the smell of alcohol was thick in the air. Someone had set up a portable Bluetooth speaker in one of the quads, and an impromptu dance party was happening.

Dance party. Beautiful Dancer Boy. Myungjun veered away from that scene and headed into the dorm building from the back. He cursed his slight stature as he struggled through the press of bodies to the stairs and up to the third floor. He passed more than one couple tucked into a shadowy nook, arms wrapped around each other, giggling or moaning. He avoided them as best as he could, apologized when he couldn’t, and prayed he didn’t recognize anyone who was part of them before he made it back to his dorm room.

His floor was alive with the party as well. Was there a building-wide party? Had Myungjun missed a social event notice somehow? When he reached his room, the door was wide open and four people were clustered around the tiny television screen that Dongmin’s parents had given him as a housewarming gift. They were holding video game controllers and shouting to each other.

Myungjun didn’t recognize any of them.

“I’m home,” he said tentatively. 

“Welcome home,” one of the strangers said without turning from the screen. It was some kind of intense first person shooter game.

Myungjun wondered where Jinwoo and Dongmin were. He fished his phone out of his pocket, texted both of them, and heard both of their phones ping on Dongmin’s desk. What would be the best way to tell these strangers to get out so he could sleep? Myungjun set down his backpack and grabbed his dopp kit, headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face.

They were all students. Sure there was a party going on, but they’d understand, right? With finals coming up, people needed to be well-rested so they could study hard and do their best.

Myungjun chose his words carefully. Once his teeth and face were clean, he changed into his pajamas. Then he headed back to his room, prepared to speak up for himself and get some peace and quiet.

Only there were even  _ more _ people in the room, cheering each other on. Myungjun could sleep through all kinds of noise, but he was just so tired.

And then he recognized one of the strangers sitting in front of the television and holding a controller.

Beautiful Dancer Boy.

Myungjun let out a little squeak, but the sound was drowned out by the video game. He scurried to his bed and climbed in, yanked the blankets up over his head. No. He couldn’t let Beautiful Dancer Boy see him. He’d put his wax seal away, right? And he hadn’t left any of his notes out, lest Beautiful Dancer Boy recognize his handwriting, right?

What was his name?

All the other boys just called him  _ Hyung. _ There was Minhyuk and Sanha and Chanhee and Hyunseo (how were they all fitting into the tiny dorm room?), but Beautiful Dancer Boy had no name.

There was also still no Jinwoo or Dongmin.

Myungjun kind of wanted to kill them.

But he had to hold very still and pray that no one noticed him and that eventually people would give up on video games and just leave.

Myungjun squeezed his eyes shut tightly and did his best to breathe slow and steady, stay calm. If Beautiful Dancer Boy left, that would be just fine too.

Somehow Myungjun fell asleep before anyone left - or Jinwoo and Dongmin came back.

As he fell asleep, the song Knock Three Times played in his head. He imagined Beautiful Dancer Boy singing it.

He sang it beautifully.

*

When Myungjun woke on Sunday morning, sunlight was streaming brightly into the room and piercing even the shelter of his comforter. He groaned and squinted at his watch. It was nearly ten.

He sat bolt upright. What the hell? He’d lost half a morning’s precious study time. He kicked the comforter aside and scanned the room. It was thankfully empty of strangers, but there were a few empty red plastic cups that still smelled of beer clustered on the desks. Jinwoo was asleep in his bunk. Dongmin was nowhere to be seen.

Myungjun grabbed his dopp kit and some clean clothes and bolted for the shower. He washed and dressed as quickly as he could, but by the time he made it to the cafeteria, breakfast was no longer being served, so he had to cobble together a bunch of snacks to make a meal. While he ate, he ran through his mental checklist of tasks for the day, the subjects he had to study for and what material he needed to cover.

Campus was quiet, but then Myungjun supposed that was to be expected, given that there had been a wild party last night and also exams started first thing tomorrow morning. He hurried back to the dorms to ready his study supplies. Dongmin, who never got hungover, had probably headed over to the library bright and early. Jinwoo was still snoring in his bunk, but he’d get up eventually. He liked to study outside if the weather was nice, so he’d probably gather up his headphones and laptop and books and bask in the sun (and look unfairly handsome to passersby, especially if he wore that one tank top that showed off hints of his tattoos).

Even though all three of them had tiny desks in their dorm room, Myungjun was the only one who studied at his. He did a few stretches, made sure he had drinks and snacks to hand, then sank down in his chair and cracked open his fundamentals of design textbook.

Myungjun had made it to his review of the third chapter when he heard it, someone making noise from the floor below him. He lifted his head, confused, because he wasn’t sure what he was hearing at first, but sure enough, there it was. 

_ Thump thump thump. _

Unbelievable. Were some people still partying? 

Myungjun, thinking of the pack of strange boys who’d played video games in his room till all hours, rolled his eyes and went back to studying.

Only a few minutes later, there it was again.

_ Thump thump thump. _

Surely other students weren’t deliberately making that noise on what was well-known as a campus-wide study day. 

Myungjun kept on working, but he heard it again.

It sounded rhythmic and deliberate.

Myungjun rose from his chair and crossed the small room in a few steps, peered into the hall. It was the Sunday before exam week, so campus was dead, but that didn’t mean the rest of the city was sleeping. Sure, a lot of businesses opened late the morning of major high school exams, but this was university. Things were different now.

Myungjun went to the window, drew aside the curtains and peered around. Was there construction going on? He knew industrial sounds could carry in strange ways. He squinted at the cityscape and saw some cranes in the distance. Surely sound didn’t carry  _ that _ far, did it?

And then it occurred to Myungjun that some hapless music major might be doing some studying of their own, and this time of the semester probably meant a lot of the practice rooms were booked up.

He sighed, flopped back down in his chair, and pulled on a pair of headphones. He turned on some music and did his best to get back to work.

A familiar song started to play, and Myungjun straightened up, smiled a bit, sang along softly.

_ Hey boy whatcha doin’ down there? _

He did his best to ignore the annoying  _ thump thump thump  _ from down below and hoped that whoever it was, they got a good grade for all their persistence.

*

Myungjun took a break in the early afternoon so he could get an actual lunch from the cafeteria. As he crossed campus, he saw Jinwoo sprawled out on a blanket underneath a broad old oak, nodding along to the beat of the music on his massive headphones, twirling a pen like it was a drumstick and poring over his notes.

Myungjun headed through the food line, trying to shake off the cobwebs of studying so that when he went back to it he’d feel refreshed. He did get a large bubble green tea to give himself a boost of energy. As he moved through the food line he had to remind himself about a dozen times  _ not _ to think about his study plans. He thought about his sister and his adorable little nephew and how he still wasn’t sure whether or not he liked his brother-in-law. 

When it came time to pick a table, Myungjun instinctively headed for one of the corner tables, but then he remembered - he was avoiding Beautiful Dancer Boy, lest he be recognized and forced to face his stupid choice of drunkenly writing his confession in a letter and delivering it like a weirdo. So he veered to another table and sat down, head down, and dug into his food.

Beautiful Dancer Boy had been to Myungjun’s room. He recognized Myungjun as someone who lived in the same dorm building as him. If Myungjun wasn’t careful, Beautiful Dancer Boy would figure out who’d sent the letter and Myungjun would be so embarrassed that he’d have to transfer to a different university.

“Hey.”

Myungjun started violently.

“It’s just me,” Dongmin said. How he was balancing his tray, his textbooks, and his laptop like that, Myungjun didn’t know. It defied physics. It was like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, only without the leaning.

“Oh, hey. Taking a break?” Myungjun scooted over, and Dongmin sat beside him.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.” Myungjun glanced at Dongmin, who looked perfectly put together. He probably never got busted for uniform violations when he was younger. “Where were you and Jinwoo last night?”

“We were at the party,” Dongmin said. “Jinwoo was with some of his musician friends and I was with some of the theater majors.” Dongmin wanted to be a lawyer, but he was minoring in theater, because appearing in court required some serious acting skills, or so he said.

“Was it fun?”

Dongmin eyed him. “You didn’t go?”

“Work was long. I was tired. I went straight to bed.”

Dongmin frowned. “But when Jinwoo and I got back, people were still playing video games.”

Myungjun shrugged. “I’d just pulled the covers up over my head.”

“You didn’t kick them out?” Dongmin asked. People assumed that because he was pretty he probably always got his way and was therefore weak-willed, but he had a fiery temper when the circumstances were right.

“No.” 

“Hyung, I’m sure they wouldn’t have thought you were rude if you’d just asked.” Dongmin’s concerned frown deepened.

People thought Myungjun was a pushover because he was cheerful so often. 

That wasn’t true. Myungjun just didn’t want to have to explain how he’d been too afraid to talk to the strangers lest Beautiful Dancer Boy realize who he was and confront him about his drunken confession letter. “It took me a while to fall asleep, but once I did, I slept pretty hard. I think.” 

“Okay. I’m glad you could rest well.” Dongmin’s expression was skeptical and hopeful all at once. He usually had so much going on in his head that nothing showed up on his face, but sometimes all his emotions bubbled to the surface and his expressions were - complicated.

Resting well had been out of the question while Beautiful Dancer Boy was in the room and Myungjun was inches away from discovery, but he wasn’t about to tell Dongmin that. Myungjun steered the conversation away from the party the night before and drinking in general, and they finished their meal without incident. Then they split up and headed back to their study spots, Dongmin to his study carrel in the library, Myungjun to the dorms.

If that thumping started up again, he would lose his mind. As a precaution, he put on his headphones and music straight away, and he got back to work. Once he’d covered all his subjects for the semester in-depth, he could get away with mini-reviews before each exam. He’d learned first semester that over-studying was a real thing, and he had to pace himself.

Myungjun was halfway through his fourth of his six subjects that semester when his phone rang, interrupting one of his favorite songs. Myungjun frowned and reached out, ready to swipe to ignore, and saw that it was Manager calling. His chest tightened. Had the other weekend part-timer not shown up? Myungjun really couldn’t afford to skimp on studying, even if he was cutting his budget close by skipping street drawing for the whole of exam week.

But he also couldn’t afford to lose his job, so -

Myungjun swiped to answer. “Hello?”

“Myungjun-ah, I don’t mean to interrupt your studying, but I have a quick question for you.”

“Yes, Manager-nim.”

“I’ve been getting a lot of questions - and compliments, lots of compliments - about the portrait you drew for the window display.”

Myungjun couldn’t help but preen a little. “That’s nice to hear.”

“Ah - a  _ lot _ of young ladies have been asking. Who’s the boy in the picture?”

“Just a boy from my dorm building,” Myungjun said. Dammit dammit dammit. He should have drawn Dongmin or Jinwoo. He’d drawn them plenty of times too. “I picked him because he has an interesting face.”

“What’s his name?”

Myungjun nearly blurted out the truth, that he didn’t know, but then he realized how creepy it would seem, that he’d stared at Beautiful Dancer Boy so much he could draw him from memory like that. “Why? Does someone want to ask him out on a date?”

“Actually -”

“I don’t know that he’d be comfortable with me giving out his personal information. I only drew half of his face for a reason. I’ll draw a different portrait for my next shift,” Myungjun said. On reflection, he was pretty sure Jinwoo wouldn’t mind, but Dongmin was a bit sensitive about his looks, probably because so many people fawned over him but his mother had given him a copy of Isaac Asimov’s  _ The Ugly Little Boy _ when he was young.

“Will you ask him if he minds?” Manager asked. “A scout from a talent company left a business card. Or you could just - pass the card on to him.”

Talk to Beautiful Dancer Boy and confess that he’d drawn a portrait of him for all of downtown Seoul to see?

“I’ll see what I can do,” Myungjun said.

Manager sighed. “I understand. Thank you, Myungjun-ah. Good luck with your exams.”

“Thank you, Manager-nim. See you next weekend.” Myungjung hung up. As soon as he was done with his exams, he’d whip up a portrait of Jinwoo. After checking with Jinwoo, of course. He cranked up his music and went back to studying.

Once or twice he thought he felt the floor vibrate with another  _ thump thump thump, _ but he ignored it. If he made it through exams, break would arrive, and he could go home, visit his parents, or maybe visit his sister and spend all his energy playing with his nephew, and by then everything with Beautiful Dancer Boy would have blown over. Or he could stay in Seoul and go to clubs and look for other cute boys to hook up with, forget Beautiful Dancer Boy. After pining over him since second week of first semester, forgetting him would be easy.

The floor vibrated some more.

Myungjun turned his music up louder and hunched over his textbook. 

They called it a crush for a reason.

*

Myungjun had heard that at some universities there was a special schedule for exams, so on top of studying hard, students were burdened with memorizing a special schedule just for exams. His university wasn’t like that, thankfully: exams took place at the same time as regular classes, which meant they couldn’t last for hours on end, and also no one ran into the risk of having to be in two places at once.

He’d made sure to get to bed early the night before and do his best to sleep well, and when he woke he did a few jumping jacks to wake himself up before hitting the shower. Dongmin came back from the shower just as Myungjun headed for the door. He was toweling off his hair and wearing that dangerously blank expression that meant he was thinking hard already. Myungjun flashed him a smile.

“If I don’t see you before you go, good luck today!”

At that, Dongmin smiled back, and for a moment Myungjun wondered why he couldn’t have crushed on Dongmin like everyone else did. Living with him would have killed the crush quickly, because even if Dongmin did manage to look beautiful bare-faced twenty-four-seven, he wasn’t perfect, and they’d all gotten on each other’s nerves more than once.

Myungjun headed for the shower. He lingered a little bit to let the hot water sink into his muscles, really relax him, and then he brushed his teeth and shaved and dressed. Jinwoo was just shuffling out of the dorm room with his towel around his neck, and Myungjun offered him a bright smile and a  _ Good luck! _

He packed up his supplies, double-checked that he had pens and pencils and pencil sharpeners and spare erasers, and then he glanced at his watch.

It was 7:09. He had to wait three more minutes, and -

No. He was avoiding Beautiful Dancer Boy today.

It was time to just start thinking of him as Dancer Boy.

Or maybe even that random dance major who lived downstairs.

Myungjun slung on his backpack, squared his shoulders, and headed for the stairs. He kept his head up, and he kept his gaze forward, and he made a beeline for the cafeteria. When he wasn’t keeping careful pace with Dancer Boy’s easy long-legged stride, he moved quickly, and he was able to get into line and get good proteins and carbs for energy, plus an extra bottle of green tea to hold him over till lunch. 

He picked a random table to sit at, and he ate at a leisurely pace, because eating too fast would upset his stomach, and he considered his first exam.

He had to focus on his exams. He was in college to get good grades and get a good job, not to date and fall in love. He had his entire future to think about. No one would want to date him anyway while he was penniless and either working or studying all the time. He had to make his parents proud. He wanted to live a good life, get a cute dog and a nice condo somewhere on the outskirts of the city.

He had plans. Big plans. He had to focus on those.

Myungjun was so focused on them that he nearly crashed into someone on his way to return his tray.

He stumbled back, bowing. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. I think everyone is a bit distracted this morning.”

Myungjun looked up sharply.

It was Dancer Boy, who looked downright adorable, wearing a soft sweater and glasses.

Myungjun’s heart sang, and his entire body was suffused with warmth.

And then he remembered what he’d done. 

He lowered his gaze. “Ah - yes. I’m sorry again.” He ducked around the taller boy and returned his tray.

“Good luck on exams,” the other boy called after him.

Myungjun managed a weak “You too!” before he fled.

He forced himself to slow down, take deep breaths, and walk calmly the rest of the way. He’d studied hard, he’d rested well, he’d eaten well. He was good at this subject. The professor for this class wasn’t well-known for being particularly difficult. Myungjun knew he would do well on this exam. All of his exams would be finished by Wednesday. He just had to get through these two days and then he would be on vacation. 

He paused just outside the classroom door, took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders.

“No regrets,” he told himself.

The exam went well. Myungjun paced himself but still finished a bit early, so he turned in his exam, bowed to the professor, who smiled at him, and left.

He could take his time walking across campus, enjoy the sunlight. He kept to the cement paths even though the wide, carefully-groomed lawns looked inviting. Most students didn’t venture onto the grass unless it was for a pickup game of soccer or something. There was something oddly meditative, to following the gentle curves of the cement paths but seeing the vivid green.

Since he’d gotten out of his exam early, he had a bit of time till his next one, so he could stretch and relax. Myungjun paused, stretched his arms above his head, twisted side to side. That felt good. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, smiled at the sunlight.

Something cold and wet thrust itself into his hand.

Myungjun opened his eyes, startled - and saw the campus dog, some kind of black and white shepherd, standing beside him, wagging her tail. She had a stick in her mouth.

Myungjun smiled and knelt, scratched her behind the ear. “Hey, girl. You want a quick game of fetch?” He glanced at his watch. “I have a few minutes.”

He held out a hand, and she dropped the stick into it, panted happily.

Myungjun straightened up, loosened his shoulder, poised to throw.

Someone else said, “Hey, you were supposed to bring that back to me!”

Myungjun turned - and there, of course, was Dancer Boy, still looking fresh and adorable.

Dancer Boy smiled at Myungjun and waved, and Myungjun’s breath caught in his throat. 

All he could do was stare. 

And then the dog barked, and Myungjun remembered where he was - and what he was doing. 

He made an executive decision and threw the stick toward Dancer Boy. The dog took off after it like a shot. She leaped and caught it midair, landed gracefully. Sure enough, she trotted toward Dancer Boy, and he was distracted by petting her and talking to her. Myungjun tightened his grip on the strap of his backpack and sped up. Time to get to his next exam. 

Sunlight and warmth were vital and necessary to live, but Myungjun knew what happened to people who spent too much time in the sun. They got burned. 

After his second exam, he ate lunch quickly, and then he had his third exam. He thought it went well, and he had a break after that, so he swung by one of the vending machines in the student union for some more green tea. 

He plopped down on one of the soft couches and checked his phone. His mother and sister had sent good luck messages. 

He smiled as he typed back, let them know that he felt good about his exams so far. He also sent messages to Dongmin and Jinwoo, wishing them extra luck on their afternoon exams. Once that was done, he put on his headphones and turned on some music and closed his eyes. 

After today all his design classes would be done. Tomorrow he had his singing final, but his final drawing project wasn’t due till the end of the scheduled class period on Thursday. He was ready for his singing final. There was one song he knew backwards and forwards. 

Singing it would be bittersweet. 

_ Knock three times on the ceiling if you want me… _

*

That night, Jinwoo, Dongmin, and Myungjun had dinner together. Instead of going to the student cafeteria they splurged and got chimaek, which they took to a comfy outdoor spot on campus. They spread out a blanket and ate together. Myungjun kept his head down, nervous that he’d run into Dancer Boy despite his efforts at  _ not _ keeping to his usual schedule that allowed him to see Dancer Boy. He did his best to focus on his roommates. Exams were stressful for everyone.

Jinwoo, who’d been in university the longest, was of the opinion that doing post-mortems on exams was a bad idea and would just stress them out, so other than checking in about how they felt they’d done - the general consensus was good, though they had to stop Dongmin from obsessing about his English exam - they talked about other things.

“By the way, Jinwoo, I’m helping my manager arrange a new art display at the shop, and he wants a portrait. Can I draw you?” 

Jinwoo grinned. “Sure. After all, I am terribly handsome.” He added, waggling his eyebrows playfully, “More handsome than Dongmin.”

Dongmin said, “Please don’t draw me.”

Myungjun nodded. “Of course not.” He almost added,  _ Not without your permission, _ but he’d done just that to Dancer Boy.

Well, he was going to fix that.

“Do you need me to sit for you?” Jinwoo asked.

“No. I can draw you from memory.”

“Oooh - have you looked at me that much?”

“We’ve lived with each other for almost two full semesters,” Dongmin said. “If he didn’t know what you look like by now -”

“Drawing someone from memory is a separate skill from just...remembering what they look like,” Myungjun cut in.

Jinwoo sighed. “I know. You don’t really think I’m handsome. You’d rather draw that dance major who lives downstairs from us.”

“Not without asking his permission,” Dongmin said primly.

Myungjun winced internally. 

“Will I get to see the picture? Before you take it to the shop,” Jinwoo said.

Myungjun nodded. “I need to finish my final drawing assignment before I work on it, but it won’t take long. It’s only half a portrait anyway.”

“Half?” Jinwoo furrowed his brow.

“You’ll see,” Myungjun said. “So, got big plans for the vacation?”

“Fishing with my parents,” Jinwoo said. “You?”

“Not sure yet. Definitely going to spend some time with my family.” Myungjun nudged Dongmin. “What about you?”

“Same,” he said. “Time with family. I miss my little brother.”

Talk turned to their families, and once they were finished with the food, they packed up and headed back to the dorm. They took their time getting ready for bed.

Once Myungjun and Jinwoo were in their bunks, Dongmin turned off the light.

Myungjun reminded himself of the breathing exercise his sister had taught him, and after several iterations he was sleepy.

Just before he fell asleep, something jolted him wide awake.

_ Thump thump thump. _

“Did you hear that?” he whispered.

“Hear what?” Dongmin murmured sleepily.

Jinwoo’s answer was a snore.

Myungjun restarted the breathing exercise. He had to be ready for tomorrow.

*

Even though Myungjun was an architecture major, singing was his passion, and he’d studied it well all through school. He knew how to take care of his voice, so the next morning, he made sure to be careful about what he ate and drank. He lingered in the shower a bit, breathing in the steam, and when he went to breakfast, he stirred honey into his tea. He cupped his hands around the top of the mug and breathed in some of the sweet honey steam. He didn’t linger over his breakfast, instead hurried to the practice room he’d booked so he could warm his voice up before class.

Even though he wasn’t all that good at playing the piano, he could at least play scales for himself to warm up. Every now and again he patted his pocket, made sure he had the flash drive with his backing track on it. The vocal performance class had paired up with one of the sound engineering classes to get their backing tracks made. A few people were ambitious and singing original compositions. Most people were doing covers, though some students had talked about doing their own arrangements. Myungjun wasn’t that good a musician, so he’d gotten the MP3 of the song from Dongmin and handed it over to Hoseok, a sound engineering and music composition major who was an ulzzang in his spare time. Hoseok had excellent turnaround time because he was a very skilled sound engineer, and Myungjun had had weeks to practice with the backing track. 

Myungjun had a good relationship with his singing teacher, and she’d agreed to let him go in the first three so he could get back to the dorms and work on his drawing final. He hoped to get it finished that day, do any fixes on Wednesday, and turn it in on Thursday.

He wasn’t sure if it was better or worse, that he had no audience for his performance, just the professor and her camera, but he waited in the hallway outside the classroom, smiling at the other students who were fidgeting on the benches or pacing up and down. A few of them smiled back at him, and he wished them good luck.

The second student came out, nodded at Myungjun, and he stood up, took several deep breaths, and then headed into the classroom. 

Professor Kang sat at one of the middle desks a couple of rows back, a notepad in front of her.

Myungjun bowed to her and greeted her, then headed over to the soundboard and plugged his flash drive into the computer, checked that it was working.

“What will you be singing for me today?”

“It’s an English song called Knock Three Times by Tony Orlando and Dawn,” he said.

Professor Kang raised her eyebrows. “An English song. All right.”

Myungjun started the track, then took his spot in the front of the classroom, breathed in deeply, checked his posture, and cleared his throat. 

He caught his cue perfectly, launched into the first verse. Would his teacher notice that he’d changed the pronouns? He didn’t care. Today was the last day he would sing this song anyway. 

He smiled at the professor, he smiled at the camera behind her, he sang his heart out, and he didn’t stumble once. Every ounce of warmth and light and joy he’d felt over the past months of being in love with the beautiful dance major from downstairs was poured into each note. He sang about the first time he saw the tall boy dancing on the grass near the building, lost in his own world and his music. He sang about the first time he saw the boy smile, how his heart had pounded and he’d felt like he was flying. He sang about feeling jealous whenever he saw the other boy smiling at others, talking to them. He sang about wanting to offer the other boy his gloves when they almost crossed paths on a cold winter evening, and wanting to give the other boy a hug when he looked sad.

Myungjun sang it all away, and at the end he felt - lighter. A little sadder. But all right.

When it was done, he took his bows, smiling and waving at a pretend audience. 

Professor Kang laughed and applauded. “That was very well done, Myungjun-ah, and your English pronunciation is excellent! I can tell you put a lot of work into that. You are an excellent technical singer, but you are also a very talented performer. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched you, and I  _ believed  _ in your love for your downstairs neighbor.”

Myungjun felt color flood his cheeks. She did understand English. 

“I’ll have to decide on a final score, but I can tell you right here and now that you passed this class well.”

He bowed and thanked her profusely, still blushing. 

“Good luck with the rest of your exams.”

“Thank you.” He bowed again and left the classroom. “Whoever’s next, you’re up. Good luck! I left her in a good mood for you.”

He smiled and waved and hoped he wasn’t still blushing, and he headed back to the dorms. 

“How did it go?” Dongmin asked when Myungjun pushed open the door. 

Myungjun kicked off his shoes and toed on his slippers. “She said I did well and I definitely passed. I’m sure she will have to review the recording of my performance to give me a detailed technical score, but I passed, and that’s all that counts. Once my drawing assignment is turned in I’m free.” He hung his backpack on the hook at the foot of his bunk. “What are you doing here? You have your very own carrel in the library.”

Dongmin was hunched over at his desk and looking miserable. “I used to.”

“Did some sunbae kick you out?”

“The librarians did.” 

Myungjun knelt down beside him. “Why? You’re a good, respectful student -”

“Because a bunch of girls also know it’s my carrel, and while I was trying to study they kept trying to bring me food and snacks and notes and -” Dongmin shook his head. “I know I shouldn’t complain, that plenty of other boys would love the attention.”

“Except for boys like you who don’t like girls,” Myungjun said. “I can’t believe the librarians kicked you out. They should have kicked the girls out.”

“Well, they politely suggested I go elsewhere, and I was packing up my books, but then the girls started arguing with the librarians, and the other students who were trying to study got annoyed at the noise.” Dongmin turned bright red at the mere memory.

Myungjun patted his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’ll be very quiet, all right? Just put on my headphones and work.”

Dongmin smiled tiredly at him. “I don’t mean to complain, Hyung.”

“I understand why you feel burdened. You don’t deserve unnecessary stress when exams are already stressful. I promise I’ll stay quiet. Good luck.” Myungjun smiled back, and then he retreated to his desk. His sketchpad was too big to fit on his desk, so he propped it up against the desk and sat on the floor. Once he had his headphones on and his drawing supplies to hand and a peaceful drawing playlist going, he pulled the sketchpad partially onto his lap and set to work.

And felt the floor vibrate right underneath him.

_ Thump thump thump. _

He tugged his headphones off. “Did you hear that?”

Dongmin nodded. “I’ve been hearing it on and off. I think there’s construction going on somewhere. Whoever scheduled dorm repairs during finals was very inconsiderate.”

“Is it dorm repairs?” Myungjun asked.

Dongmin shrugged. “It must be.”

Myungjun had been hearing the sound since Sunday. Who did repairs on a Sunday? But he put his headphones back on and continued drawing. The sensation of pencil on paper, the rhythm of sketching was soothing. Between the gentle music and the sunlight streaming in through the window, Myungjun felt calm, peaceful.

He was so deep into his drawing that he nearly had a heart attack when someone tapped on his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Dongmin said. “I’m just taking a break to stretch. Want to get lunch together later?”

Myungjun nodded and smiled at him. “Sure.” 

Dongmin looked like he was a lot less stressed out. “Great. Maybe Jinwoo will be back by then and we can all go together. Also, my mother sent some red ginseng to help me have energy and stay alert. Would you like a packet?”

Now that Myungjun’s vocal exam was over, he could have what he wanted. Even though he preferred green tea, the red ginseng drinks that Dongmin’s mother sent were pretty tasty. “Yes, please.”

Dongmin handed him one, then opened one of his own. 

Stretching was a good idea. Myungjun set aside his pencil and straightened up, rolling his shoulders. He opened the little packet and slurped happily at the juice. Dongmin rolled his eyes at the childish behavior, but it also made him smile, so Myungjun did it again.

_ Thump thump thump. _

“That sounded like it came from right below us,” Dongmin said, his smile dimming.

“Are they doing repairs right below us?” Myungjun asked.

“I don’t know.”

The sound came again.

_ Thump thump thump. _

“That was definitely right below us,” Myungjun said.

Dongmin made fist and pounded on the floor three times.

Sure enough, there was a response.

_ Thump thump thump. _

“Would a repair man do that?” Dongmin asked.

Myungjun eyed the floor warily. “Maybe? If us banging on the floor was causing dust to rain on him or something. Only I swear I’ve been hearing this same noise since Sunday.”

Dongmin banged on the floor again.

The response was immediate, three deliberate thumps.

Dongmin banged again.

Someone downstairs replied.

Myungjun tried this time, and sure enough, someone replied.

“Is it morse code?” Myungjun asked. “Is there even morse code for Korean?” He knew the standard SOS and that was it.

“There is,” Dongmin said. “Well, there is an English-letter conversion system, where certain English letters represent certain Korean letters, and so three English letters make up one syllable.”

Of course Dongmin knew the details of Korean morse code.

“What word are they making?” Myungjun asked when someone downstairs thumped again.

“I don’t actually know morse code, I just know about it.” Dongmin fired up his phone.

Myungjun thumped back, just to keep the person downstairs talking.

They thumped back and forth while Dongmin hummed thoughtfully to himself, and then he said,

“If it’s morse code, what they’re saying is gibberish, so I don’t think that’s what it is.”

“Why are they banging on the ceiling then?” Myungjun asked.

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll stop, and maybe they’ll stop.”

Only whoever was downstairs didn’t. They just thumped louder.

“Hey,” Dongmin yelled at the floor. “We’re trying to study up here.”

Downstairs thumped again.

Dongmin leapt to his feet and stomped loudly in response. “Hey! Knock it off!”

Myungjun jumped up. “Look, calm down. Making noise back at them is probably just going to make them madder.” 

Dongmin was probably still agitated about the library incident. And he had a bit of a fiery temper to boot.

Downstairs thumped even louder.

Dongmin stomped back.

“Dongminnie, come on,” Myungjun said. “Look, I’ll go to the library with you and guard you, all right? I’ll keep the girls away. I can pretend to be your boyfriend. It’ll be quieter there.”

Downstairs thumped, and Dongmin stomped again.  _ “Yah! Stop it!” _

There was another loud  _ thump thump thump. _

But it was someone knocking at the door.

“You probably pissed off the RA,” Myungjun said.

Dongmin swept past him and wrenched open the door. “You!”

Myungjun scrambled after him, prepared to hold him back lest he get into a fight.

The boy standing at their door was barely taller than Myungjun, had sandy hair and bright dark eyes and a wide mouth. He was whipcord thin, probably all muscle. “You,” he said, eyes wide.

Dongmin’s gaze was full of sparks. “You first.”

To Myungjun’s vast horror, Beautiful Dancer Boy was standing behind the other boy.

The boy licked his lips nervously. “I like you too.”

Dongmin faltered. “What?”

Myungjun was also very confused. He did recognize the boy, though, had seen him around the dorms.

The younger boy smiled tentatively. “Isn’t that why you were knocking on the ceiling? Knock three times?”

“I was trying to get you to be quiet so I could study,” Dongmin snapped, and then he paused, processed what the boy had said.

Myungjun felt his face flame, and he wished the ground would open and swallow him.

The boy’s smile vanished, and he swallowed hard. “You’re not Sunshine?”

“Me?” Dongmin echoed incredulously, which was a little insulting, but Myungjun would take insulting if he could avoid the inevitable humiliation of his drunken stupidity catching up to him. “Wait, you’re a dance major too?”

Jinwoo arrived just then. “Heya Sunshine, Minnie Mouse.”

“I told you not to call me Minnie Mouse,” Dongmin snapped reflexively.

_ “You’re  _ Sunshine?” the younger boy said.

Myungjun wanted to disappear. “Ah...yes?”

The other boy had disappointment written all over his face. “Oh. I - I’m sorry. I don’t like you. Like that. I mean, I’m sure you’re a nice person and all -”

“It’s fine,” Myungjun said. “I’m sorry about the misunderstanding. Dongmin is sorry as well. We’ll get back to our studying and let you get back to yours.”

“Wait a second,” the younger boy said, and he turned to Beautiful Dancer Boy. “Bin-hyung is also a dance major.”

Bin. Beautiful Dancer Boy finally had a name.

Then Dongmin looked the other boy up and down. “Wait, you like me?”

Jinwoo grabbed his shoulder and tugged him out of the doorway. “Now’s not the time, Dongmin. Let’s go.”

“But -” Dongmin cast a longing look at the other boy.

Jinwoo also grabbed him. “Here, you can come too, sort things out between you. Give Myungjun and - Bin, was it? A moment alone.”

“I’m Minhyuk,” the boy said, smiling at Dongmin as Jinwoo dragged them both toward the stairs.

Myungjun was left alone, gazing up at the boy he’d decided to let go, the boy he’d never really had.

“I told Minhyuk he was wrong,” Bin said. “Your roommate is very handsome, but you - you’re sunshine.” He ducked his head, looking bashful. “Every time I see you, you’re like a ray of sunshine. When you smile.”

“I’m sorry,” Myungjun said. “I was drunk when I sent that letter.”

“Did you not mean it?”

Myungjun sighed, scrubbed a hand over his hair. “I did. Just - there were better ways to confess.”

“We’ve been upstairs-downstairs neighbors for a whole year. Were you ever going to get around to one of those other ways?”

Myungjun shrugged. “I don’t know. Boys like me don’t deserve boys like you, so -”

“Hey.” Bin stepped closer, and Myungjun either had to tip his head back further to meet his gaze or look away.

He looked away.

Bin leaned down and whispered in Myungjun’s ear, “Boys like me like boys like you.”

Myungjun turned to look at him, and they were close enough to kiss. “Really?”

“Really.” Bin straightened up, smiling. “So, Sunshine, what’s your real name? Although I’d believe it, if Sunshine was your actual name. Sunny? Fits you perfectly.”

“Myungjun,” he said. “I’m Kim Myungjun.”

“Moon Bin. Nice to meet you.” He bowed, offered a hand.

Myungjun bowed back.

“Say,” Bin said, “it’s just about lunchtime. Want to go get some food? We can get to know each other better.”

“I’d like that,” Myungjun said, feeling a little dazed. “Um, let me grab my wallet and phone.”

“We’re amazing, though, aren’t we?” Bin said.

Myungjun paused in the doorway. “How?”

“Sun and Moon, under the same sky,” Bin said. “It should be impossible, but we made it happen.”

“More like Dongmin and Minhyuk made it happen.” Myungjun grabbed his wallet and phone, closed the door behind him, and followed Bin toward the stairs.

“You made it happen,” Bin said, and he sang, “ _ Knock three times on the ceiling if you want me.” _

He sang it beautifully.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the lyrics to the song "Knock Three Times" by Tony Orlando & Dawn.
> 
> So much gratitude to the amazing SherlockianSyndromes for doing the beta on this.
> 
> Also I know this ship is typically called MyungBin but in my heart it's SunMoon. Fight me.


End file.
